


reconciliation is hard but we'll make it

by Ecinue



Series: memory lane [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Temporary Amnesia, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Tubbo & TommyInnit Friendship, im so sorry that this is so late, no beta we die like wilbur getting stabbed, written pre-festival and pre-finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecinue/pseuds/Ecinue
Summary: Slowly, we work our ways to a new future. Perhaps we can rekindle our friendships and move past the trauma.A new day, a new hope, a new light.(This was written pre-festival and pre-finale. This is a fic that is an expansion of the "memory lane" series that follows a "what if" scenario in which Tommy loses his memories after Wilbur blows up L'manberg at the festival. Tubbo's execution and everything that follows afterward in canon do not happen.)
Relationships: i cant be asked to add them all - Relationship
Series: memory lane [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969003
Comments: 34
Kudos: 374





	reconciliation is hard but we'll make it

**Author's Note:**

> This was written pre-festival and pre-finale. This is a fic that is an expansion of the "memory lane" series that follows a "what if" scenario in which Tommy loses his memories after Wilbur blows up L'manberg at the festival. Tubbo's execution and everything that follows afterward in canon do not happen.
> 
> Disclaimer: Please be aware that everything I write is fictional and by no means supposed to allude to what should really happen. I have no intention of making these creators uncomfortable and if any of the people mentioned here blatantly state that they are uncomfortable with this, I will immediately remove this work.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What hurts the victim the most is not the cruelty of the oppressor but the silence of the bystander."
> 
> _\- Elie Wiesel -_

**Enouement**

_The bitter-sweetness of arriving at the future, seeing how things turned out, but not being able to tell your past self._

* * *

**A duck and a boy, we used to be good friends.**

They had been good friends, once a long time ago.

If he’s being honest, Quackity can’t quite remember the fine details, but he knew that he was on good terms with the boy. They had been on an adventure once together, a long time ago. He doesn’t remember the details but he knows that the boy looked up to him, saw him as an idol. It pains him now to think back on it but the thought is nice. He misses it, the way the small blond boy looked up at him with bright blue eyes.

He misses the way the boy used to call him “Big Q” with joy.

**You invited me here and I took it for granted.**

He remembers the first day that he met Schlatt on the SMP.

Quackity had been invited by Tommy and he had heard the legend of the man known as “JSchlatt” who came on the server and was banned near-instantly, leaving behind nothing but a cuck shed. Apparently, this same man had returned to the land, courtesy of Dream’s begrudging decision after Tommy had apparently won the war against the green man. Quackity had joined around the same time and had been exploring the area when he met Schlatt.

Quackity had been standing off to the side, observing the structures of L’manberg when Schlatt appeared and struck up a conversation. The ram hybrid had smiled at Quackity, all teeth and stiff. _“Hello.”_

_“Hello,”_ Quackity had answered back. _“You’re Schlatt, right?”_

_“Yup. Who are you?”_

_“Quackity.”_

Schlatt hummed in acknowledgment, turning his gaze to the building that they were admiring. _“Pleasure to meet you.”_

It was silent between them until Tommy had called for Quackity and he turned away, never looking back as he greeted the taller teen. In hindsight, he wonders if things could’ve gone differently, if signs were there and he just didn’t notice.

**A joke taken too far, I could see the betrayal.**

The day of the election was a day that would go down in history.

He would never forget the way that Wilbur and Tommy had stood there, the elder with gritted teeth and the younger with panicked eyes. Although he ranted about running in the election for president because of his fat ass ( _which is the fattest, by the way_ ), he never intended for things to get to this point. He simply wanted to be on the side that would work to his advantage; never did he imagine that Wilbur and Tommy would be exiled. If he closes his eyes, he can still see the fear in Tommy’s eyes as he drank in the sight of his _friends_ betraying him. Quackity had always wondered how the teen was still alive after all that he’s been through.

Tubbo had been next to him, a fine tremble in his shoulders as his hand clenched his sword tightly. The poor kid had been asked to do something that he shouldn’t have to do. Quackity wondered how damaged these two children were, having been dragged into a war between their older brother figures, powering through it all only to fall to a rigged election. He wondered if he was at fault.

( _He knows that he was at fault._ )

**The guilt still surrounds me, hidden beneath my smiles.**

“Schlatt, do you ever regret exiling Tommy and Wilbur?”

They’re alone one night, standing on the balcony of the White House in their pajamas and watching over Manberg. Quackity doesn’t know why the question suddenly came to mind. Perhaps it’s because it’s a private moment and Quackity knows that Schlatt won’t do anything to him that night. He doesn’t know.

Schlatt glances over, furrowing his brows. “Why are you asking, Quack?”

“Call it curiosity,” Quackity murmured. “I feel guilty as hell sometimes when I see Tommy’s expression from across the field. He looks like a kicked puppy.”

“It was all for the best,” Schlatt responded, taking a swig from his flask. “Sometimes, we have to make decisions we don’t like for the greater good.”

“Even if we regret it?”

“...regret kicks in at times, yes. I try my best to move past it.”

“With alcohol? Gee, what a good method.”

Quackity knew that he sounded bitter and tired but he was bitter and tired. This entire conflict left guilt and exhaustion in his bones, permanently settling there. He forced himself to smile through the day and feign confidence despite his exhaustion. He had no idea what was going to happen and if the rumors were true, Wilbur was not well. Something was coming, something specifically known as _war_. Quackity didn’t want to deal with war; trauma and war were not in the contract, no thanks.

“Why are you so upset tonight, Quack?”

“I don’t know, Schlatt. I don’t know. I’m tired.”

Schlatt frowned. “Tired?”

Quackity hummed, removing his beanie and running a hand through his hair, shoulders tense. “I can’t sleep anymore, Schlatt. I used to be able to sleep. It feels as if every time I sleep, I see Tommy and Wilbur’s heartbroken expressions. I can see Tubbo looking so tired every day and I can see Fundy’s resentful expression. Everything is so complicated here.”

“Why’d you follow me, then, Quack? Complicated situations will only arise everywhere. It’s unavoidable.”

“I don’t know,” Quackity admits honestly. “I just wanted a form of power, I guess.”

Schlatt takes another swig from his flask, the smell of alcohol wafting through the air. “That’s the thing, Quack. We all make choices we wish we could take back because of greed.”

Quackity doesn’t say anything.

“Quackity, there are times where you have to play the bad guy to make your dreams come true. If I have to be the bad guy in order for Manberg to have a prosperous future that _isn’t_ under the rule of Wilbur Soot, then so be it.”

“...let’s just sleep.”

“Just follow me, Quack.”

Schlatt leads Quackity inside, closing the door to the balcony as they enter Schlatt’s room. “Stay here tonight. We can deal with this in the morning.”

“Why?”

“Quack, just come to bed,” Schlatt grumbles as he climbs into the bed, exhaustion laced in his voice. “We can talk tomorrow morning.”

Normally, he would’ve probably declined, but Quackity is just so tired. Schlatt understands better than anyone else at the moment, in his eyes, so Quackity gives in to the temptation of sleep and slides into the bed next to Schlatt. He allows his eyes to fall shut and for once in a long time, he allows peaceful sleep to arrive. If he listened carefully, faintly, he could make out Schlatt saying something.

_“Goodnight, Quack. I’m sorry.”_

**The day of reckoning came, robbing me of my joy.**

The festival was meant to be of joy but instead, it had ended before it even began. Explosions wracked the land, digging up the dirt and setting everything aflame. The sky turned dark with smoke and buildings crumbled, burying dozens underneath their debris. Quackity had been at the main festival, at the podium, when the explosions went off. He remembers trying to get to Tubbo only to get pulled into Schlatt’s chest as the elder tried to shield him. Flames surrounded them and the last thing that Quackity remembered was a building falling on them as Schlatt tried to keep Quackity from falling asleep. Then, darkness.

When he regained consciousness, he was in Eret’s castle on a white bed, bandages strapped across his chest. On the table next to him was a bunch of empty potion vials and on the chair pulled up next to the bed was Schlatt, slumped over and passed out. Eret had stood in the doorway, a wry smile plastered on their face as he explained the situation.

“Schlatt protected you from the brunt of it, or at least he tried to,” She had said. “Doesn’t matter considering you still got injured to hell and back. You’ll need to stay in bed for another few days; you’ve been asleep for a week. Schlatt’s been in here ever since he woke up four days ago. Niki’s ready to drag him out and knock him out.”

“Oh. How bad are the injuries?”

“Not that bad in comparison to the others. It’s just some scrapes and broken ribs.”

“How’s everyone else?”

Eret hesitated and that told Quackity everything that he needed to know. Clearly, everyone else was injured, perhaps just as bad or worse. He wondered how Wilbur was feeling. Was Wilbur regretful? Was Wilbur guilty? He wonders.

Next to him, Schlatt stirred, his golden eyes blinking sleepily before registering that Quackity was awake. Instantly, he bolted up, scrambling towards Quackity. “Quack!”

“Calm down, Schlatt!” Eret hissed. “Your stitches will tear!”

Schlatt didn’t seem to process Eret’s words as fear flickered through his expression. Quackity offered a tired smile. “Hey, Schlatt.”

“When’d you wake up?” Schlatt’s voice was hoarse. Clearly, the ram hybrid had not been taking care of himself.

“Not too long ago,” Quackity said offhandedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Schlatt and Eret both didn’t look convinced. ( _Honestly, Quackity wasn’t convinced by his own words either._ )

**When I discovered you were gone, I couldn’t help but cry.**

“How’s everyone?”

It’s been a week since the festival and Quackity’s been keeping to himself with the exception of Schlatt’s company. The duo remained reserved, clearly disliked by the others. Quackity’s grateful for this, although he won’t state it. Schlatt doesn’t bullshit anything and will be blunt. Even if the ex-president had been harsh as a diplomatic leader, it was clear that he was mellow and tired outside of the office.

Schlatt hesitated. “...well, after the explosions, everyone who was present was injured and died, minus Wilbur and Tommy. We all respawned, of course, but the three Pogtopia rats are undergoing what Sapnap calls ‘technical difficulties’.”

“Huh?”

“Wilbur didn’t die but he’s still in a coma from the explosions,” Schlatt’s ears flick nervously, “We can’t find Techno or Tommy, though. Techno definitely died but nobody knows where he is. Tommy’s back at Pogtopia, I think, but we can’t exactly go to check up on him.”

“Why not?!” Quackity didn’t understand. The boy was left _alone_ at Pogtopia. Surely, they had to go help.

“He still sees us as enemies, Quack,” Schlatt muttered. “From his perspective, he has no one. We’re part of Manberg, the nation that took everything from him. His former _L’manberg_ allies said he’s been avoiding them. Considering how Dream and Techno vanished and Wilbur is probably going to be jailed, he’s alone.”

“And Tubbo?”

“Been visiting Tommy. Refuses to speak to the rest of us except Niki and Eret. Poor kid’s traumatized to hell and back but he doesn’t show it.”

“...oh.”

They didn’t find Tommy until it was nearly April. Quackity wonders if maybe he should’ve placed aside his recovery process to prioritize Tommy. He wonders if he had done that, maybe they would’ve found Tommy earlier. He wonders why he didn’t try to find Tommy faster. They should’ve known something was wrong after Tubbo got sick and Dream brought him to another realm.

In retrospect, everything seemed so clear.

**For I had done this, this I know. If only you could forgive me, this I hope.**

His heart aches when he sees Tommy flinch around them, shivering from the trauma of the past events. Phil is polite to him but, surprisingly, Quackity finds himself gravitating towards Techno and Schlatt and avoiding Wilbur at all costs. Even his interactions with Tubbo are more frequent than his meetings with Wilbur. The other beanie man was not okay, something that everyone could see. The discovery of Tommy had stabilized him the _slightest_ amount but he was still paranoid as ever, often talking to himself. If it weren’t for Phil coaxing him out of it, Quackity’s sure that Wilbur would’ve found a way to blow up the realm they were.

Once, out of curiosity, Quackity had held a conversation with Techno.

_“Techno,"_ Quackity had asked in a quiet tone that one morning out on the farm, _“Do you think he’ll forgive us?”_

Techno hadn’t paused in his potato farming, continuing to strike the ground as he responded _“Tommy’s forgiving. He’ll probably forgive you all with due time.”_

_“...are you angry with us?”_

_“Is that even a necessary question? You’re smart, you know the answer to it.”_

_“I suppose I do. Are you going to act on your anger?”_

Techno had frowned, eyes flashing dangerously. _“I may have anger issues due to being part piglin but they are relatively tame in comparison to Dream. I do not randomly attack someone out of anger, especially not on my home grounds.”_

_“You punched Wilbur and Dream,”_ Quackity said quietly, eyes distant as he gazed out onto the fields. _“But you don’t seem too surprised by everyone’s reactions. You also don’t seem too shocked by Tommy’s reactions. I wonder why.”_

_“...do you not remember the tournament we had a few years back?”_

What type of question was that? Of course, Quackity remembered. Technoblade had come out on top so many times, hunting down everyone else that Quackity sometimes still woke up in ac old sweat. It was unforgettable.

_“Of course I remember.”_

_“Tournaments involve killing, Quackity. Killing involves trauma.”_

_“Oh.”_

He had quietly excused himself after that, seeking for Schlatt and Eret to talk with. At least the other two were easier to talk to than the murderous pig.

**Standing here seems so surreal, a duck and a boy, is this real?**

Quackity was hesitant to talk to Tommy. The boy had gone through so much and gods be damned if Quackity ruined that progress. Tommy stood in the cow pen whilst Quackity stood in the chicken coop. The teen had a bright smile, a smile that hadn’t been present in so long.

“How are you holding up?” Tommy offered. “You seem tired.”

“I should be asking you that,” Quackity responded hastily. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Tommy hummed as he fed the cows. “Not really but yeah. I want to talk.”

Well, that was confusing. Quackity furrowed his brows slightly but Tommy didn’t speak up again, turning all of his attention on his cows. Something bubbled up within Quackity, the pressure squashing his heart and his breath coming out shallow.

“Tommy...I’m so fucking sorry.”

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly as Quackity rubbed his eyes harshly, wiping the tears away as he babbled.

“I-I just wanted to do the election as a joke and I never wanted to exile you and Wilbur and I’m so fucking sorry for all of this. If I hadn’t decided to add my votes to Schlatt’s, you wouldn’t have to have gone through all this shit, Wilbur wouldn’t have gone, you wouldn’t have lost your fucking _memories_ -”

“It’s okay, Big Q,” Tommy murmured, hugging the shorter male tightly, burying his face into Quackity’s shoulder. “It’s okay, big man. I forgive you.”

For a moment, the world outside faded away and it was just a boy and his friend, reconciliation flowing through their veins as one of them sobbed his apologies and the other listened. For a moment, Tommy closed his eyes and pretended as if everything was okay. For a moment, Quackity feels like he’s selfish.

For a moment, they feel like friends again. They hope this moment will last.

**A duck and a boy, such good friends. Laughter ringing through the air as they laugh. I smile and pray we can start anew, as you gaze at me and say “Big Q”.**

Standing a bit away, a man watches carefully, wings tucked behind his back. He allows a wistful smile to grace his lips as he watches his youngest son. Pride and sorrow swell in his chest and he turns away to give them privacy.

Time continues to move by and they learn to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I'd like to formally apologize for how fucking long this took me. I don't watch Quackity so I don't know his persona as well which is why it took me a whole ass MONTH to write this one chapter. Add that with my Blue Sonder Brain Rot and my writer's block...yeah, it's been tough. ~~I've also been failing school but sssssh.~~
> 
> 2\. I am so sorry for OOC. In this story, Quackity and Schlatt have a much better friendship and relationship in comparison to canon. I don't ship them and it's more of a trusting platonic relationship between them of platonic affection and being able to relate to each other. They also only have each other considering poor Tubbo's too smol to be roped into this.
> 
> 3\. The quotes used in the summaries will always be credited and the titles' definitions will always be stated. However, the poems/tales used in bold throughout the chapters are original and written by me. Quackity's is as follows:
>
>> A duck and a boy, we used to be good friends.  
> You invited me here and I took it for granted.  
> A joke taken too far, I could see the betrayal.  
> The guilt still surrounds me, hidden beneath my smiles.  
> The day of reckoning came, robbing me of my joy.  
> When I discovered you were gone, I couldn't help but cry.  
> For I had done this, this I know. If only you could forgive me, this I hope.  
> Standing here seems so surreal. A duck and a boy, is this real?  
> A duck and a boy, such good friends. Laughter ringing through the air as they laugh. I smile and pray we can start anew, as you gaze at me and say "Big Q".
>> 
>> 4\. The tournament that Quackity talks about is an allusion to Minecraft Mondays.
>> 
>> 5\. I totally didn't bullshit the last few parts.

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to come to yell at me at @ecinue_unicorn on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/ecinue_unicorn)   
>  [Check out my Carrd!~](https://ecinue.carrd.co)


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